Silly Short Bits
by willwrite4fics
Summary: Just a bunch of scenes that kept begging to be written.
1. Chapter 1

Shorts.. too short to post as a fic, never fitted into a story.. so enjoy!

"Dang Lifeline.. here Ah thought you were a pacifist. Non-violent and such." Beach smirked under his facemask as he walked towards the transport trucks. The mop-up of the battlefield was done, the greenshirt unit had finished securing any prisoners and were beginning the clean-up of damaged vehicles.

Lifeline glared at the big Sergeant major, limping slightly. "I AM a pacifist."

Twisting his face in an attempt to not laugh at the outrage in his voice, Beach looked over at him. "Well, ya sure knocked those two Cobra Vipers out cold. Ya shouldn't hit folks if yer non-violent."

Lifeline stopped and glared at the Ranger. "I only 'hit' them because you picked me up and THREW me at them! That doesn't count!"

Beach shrugged. "Ah think yer gettin' off on a technicality there. Ah mean, yer body hit 'em.."

"It DOESN'T COUNT! You can't throw me at people! And.. and you just CAN'T! You used me as a projectile!" Lifeline's irate yelling made nearby Joes look over with interest.

Strutting slightly as he walked away to supervise the loading of a destroyed HISS tank, Beach gave a parting shot over his shoulder. "Well, Ah ran outa bullets and ya shouldn't be small enough fer me to pick up and toss. Not totally mah fault ya decided to attack the enemy that way."

"I AM NOT A PROJECTILE! IT DOESN'T COUNT! I'M A PACIFIST!" The medic's shouts made the onlookers laugh and he stomped away to find Duke to complain.

0 0 0 0 0

Clutch edged the Mauler tank a bit at a time up to the ramp. Beach waved him to the left slightly. "Six inches... turn it slow.." The driver tapped the controls a bit at a time to begin lining the treads up with the ramps to bring the heavy tank up onto the transport truck.

Dusty yelled from the far side. "Too far! Take it to the right!"

Beach yelled back. "We're on the danged edge here!"

Clutch set the brakes and climbed up to look for himself. "This truck is barely big enough for a Mauler to fit onto it. The treads will be right at the edges... this is crazy. You guys watch carefully, I don't want to explain to Duke how we dumped a tank off the side of the trailer. It's already going for a full refit and engine rehaul.. if it arrives with damage we'll all be in trouble." He dropped back down inside the turret and slipped it into gear to let it inch upwards slowly.

BeachHead and Dusty kept waving and yelling, getting the tank up to the back edge finally. Steeler up at the front of the trailer suddenly yelled for them to stop. "No no.. back it up.. Clutch! You have to line it up exactly straight or it's going to have the rear of the tracks hanging off on one side! Back it up and try again!"

Dusty groaned. "We already backed off twice! This is taking all morning!"

BeachHead snapped at them both. "Well if it takes all mornin' it takes all danged mornin'. Would ya rather be picking up a tank when it falls off?"

Everyone grumbled but Clutch backed down the ramps and lined up according to the shouted directions again. He slowly brought it forward, correcting over and over to be certain everything was perfectly straight. When it finally got up onto the bed of the flatbed trailer, he continued to edge forward an inch at a time, praying the entire way that he wasn't veering to either side.

Steeler finally yelled at him. "HOLD! HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" Clutch shut down the engines while the other three men climbed up to begin tying the tank down with chains. Steeler was puffing in relief. "I swear, I hate loading these things. It's more scary than driving them through a battlefield!"

Beach grunted as he tightened down the loading chain. "Damn right.. I hate driving these things. Veer all over the danged place."

Clutch climbed around the tank checking it's placement himself. "Yeah.. they are a damned pain."

They all looked up at a roar of a heavy engine. The noise grew louder and was coming from around the armored vehicle motorpool buildings. When the second Mauler came roaring around the corner, they all scrambled off the trailer and out of the direct path of destruction they were about to witness. Clutch waved his arms, hoping the crazy driver would see the trailer before they crashed into it.

Instead of stopping, the Mauler accelerated towards the truck, thunking into the dual ramps and bouncing the flatbed slightly as it crashed up onto the trailer to slam to a stop only five inches from the first parked Mauler. The engine cut out, making loud clicks as the transmission shut down and began to cool.

All four of the Joes stared at the tank sitting perfectly centered on the trailer, their eyes lifting up to the turret as it slung open and the slender driver climbed out to stand up and look down at them.

"Well? Tie this bastard down guys, it's almost time for lunch." CoverGirl hopped off the top onto the fender and slid down to start dragging the chains around to fasten them on.

Steeler shook his head. "She's the craziest driver I ever saw."

Dusty sighed and nodded. "Soooo sexy.. she can drive anything I got, anytime."

Beach turned a glare on the desert trooper. "Say whut?"

Dusty winced, trying to step away quickly without appearing to actually run. "Oh.. you know.. because she's got a safe driving record and wouldn't.. uhh.. crash.. my car.. or anything.. not that.. uhh.. please don't break my legs!"

The shout from at the back of the tank made Beach look over with a frown. "Hey Ranger man.. put him down and come help me put these chains in place. If you break Dusty, you'll have to run the desert training mission next week."

"Dang it.."

0 0 0 0

Duke and Flint sat going over the incoming potential greenshirt files. Flint had vetoed two trouble-makers despite their high scores in everything else. Duke had tossed out a remarkably competent combat soldier who had battlefield experience because he had a history of issues with woman troops. Once they had a list, Flint would take it to BeachHead and let the Ranger go over the group as well before they authorized any of them to be brought in.

Flint's head came up and he watched BeachHead coming through the messhall. "What's up with him?"

Duke turned to look. "What? He doesn't look mad." His gaze narrowed slightly. "In fact, he looks almost.. cheerful."

"Yeah.. it's creepy when he's happy looking. Usually means trouble." Flint waved the instructor over and watched him walking through the loose crowd easily. "Alright.. spill it. What's got you looking happy?"

"Whut? I can't look happy?" Beach smirked and looked over at Duke. His attitude just made both of the commanders uneasy. "Just so happens, I just got a nice big load of material in to build some new obstacles."

Duke's head tilted. "You can always order in lumber and ropes.. what's so special about it today?"

Beach gave a shrug, still smiling contentedly. "Yeah.. but I wanted some climbin' towers and a new higher net climb.. and a log crossin'... and every time I ordered telephone poles, something always happens. I just heard from the company, the truck should be here anytime. Gonna be some good new obstacles.. troops are gonna be wailin' about it once I get 'em built." His communicator gave a buzz and he plucked it out of a pocket to listen. "Hey... there's my truck at the front gate now.. gotta run." He trotted out, the grin on his face making everyone back away nervously.

Flint glared after his back. He turned to Duke. "I've been tossing out those requests for over six months."

Duke growled. "I know.. I'm gonna have to find out who the hell let him order telephone poles.. "

Flint got up with him, grabbing up the file folders. "Yeah.. we'll be fielding complaints from everyone including Doc for the next month. And you KNOW he's going to stand there and insist it's all for the good of the team and all that."

"Yeah yeah... I know. Spending all their free time doing heavy construction just makes the greenshirts SO happy."

The warrant officer snorted. "They'll still do it.. they'd build a entire city out of toothpicks if BeachHead ordered them to."

Duke groaned as they exited the messhall. "Please.. Flint! Don't give him any ideas!"

0 0 0 0 0

Flint hummed softly to himself, the tune stuck in his head from the musical he'd spent watching with LadyJaye was a pervasive one. He'd gotten lots of brownie points from sitting through the tedious evening without arguing about the plot holes in the silly movie though. He was passed by several of the greenshirts, all seemingly intent on going somewhere at a decent rate of speed. Stepping around Private Mouth, Flint barely noticed as he entered the recreation room.

"Warrant officer Flint?"

The voice sounded plaintive and Flint turned around looking for the speaker. The rec room was empty though and he frowned. "Who's there?"

"Private Williams sir..." The tone was even more miserable than before.

Flint twisted around, then stopped. His eyes flicked around. "I'm really not in the mood for hide and seek here... I've got better things to do."

A slight scuffing noise and Williams voice came again. "I'm right here... above you."

Flint paused before he tilted his head back to see a rather dejected looking greenshirt stuck to the ceiling. "What the hell are you doing up there?"

"Not much of anything sir..." A pause. "Please don't tell Sergeant major!"

Flint shook his head looking for a sturdy chair to climb on to reach the greenshirt. "How did you get up there? What's going on? Did the other greenshirts do this to you for tattling again?" He reached up to tug at one arm splayed across the ceiling. "Is this glue?"

"Well... it was a bet see... Ace said that the industrial glue wouldn't hold a grown person.. and so.." There was a yelp as Flint yanked the arm free. "Ow.. sorry sir. We won the bet though!"

Flint sighed. "Well.. you won the bet... but Ace won a bigger bet he had with Outback that he could make the greenshirts glue one of themselves to the ceiling. Won't you guys EVER learn not to take Ace up on anything?"

"Probably not sir. Sorry sir."

Flint shook his head. "I swear... you guys all just sit around thinking up ways to give Beach an aneurism.. don't you?"

"Not specifically sir."

0 0 0 0

Roadblock was the kitchen chef. No matter what anything said on paper.. everyone acknowledged this fact. So when he was in the kitchen and angry enough to be shouting, everyone with any sense ducked for cover.

"Why are these abominations in my kitchen? I'm asking you a question!" The huge gunner was standing over the 'head chef' making it patently clear that he was 'not happy'.

The chef was trying to stand his ground. He was new. "I only fill out the regular order sheets... it's standard.."

"There is no 'standard' about having these... these... " Roadblock shook one of the offending objects under the man's nose. "There FROZEN BISCUITS in my kitchen!"

"All the kitchens I've ever worked in use frozen biscuits.." The cook seemed much more hesitant now.

Roadblock's gaze narrowed more. "Well, you ain't worked in MY messhall. Biscuits are easy to make from scratch and we make it from scratch like a biscuit is SUPPOSED to be made. Understand!"

"Yes sir! But..." Now the cook glanced over at the cases. "What am I supposed to do with all these frozen biscuits?"

Roadblock waved a hand dismissively at them. "Give them to the greenshirts to shoot out of a cannon for all I care. Just get rid of them."

0 0 0 0

Flint was headed for the rifle range. It was quiet and deserted at the moment because no one was slated to be practicing. He needed to grab the inventory list for the targets so he could finish off the order he was making up.

Hearing a irritated tone, he paused outside of the door to the rifle range building. Listening intently he identified BeachHead's distinctive voice.

"Spread yer danged legs, woman."

CoverGirl answered him. "I don't have to! Are you sure about this? I don't want to get hurt."

Beach sounded exasperated with her. "This was all YOUR danged idea in the first place. And you're gonna get hurt if'n ya don't spread your danged legs!"

"Well I didn't know it would be so big!" Flint heard her puff a few times. "I just know this was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't do it."

Beach's voice got louder. "Oh hell no, you got me out here on my day off! Now you're gonna do it and you're gonna do it right too. Bend over more." Flint twitched and put a hand on his forehead. Just when he thought the Ranger couldn't be more clueless with a potential girlfriend. "Spread those danged legs and bend it over."

She groaned and fussed again. "That position is crazy and it's never going to work without me getting hurt. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Well you're going to do it, it'll teach you not to bite off more than you can chew! And if you don't bend over, you're going to get kicked onto your danged ass!" Beach had begun to sound awfully smug but Flint was turning to leave the two to finish their squabble in private.

LadyJaye's voice stopped him cold. "Hey, when is it my turn?"

Beach's quip at her sounded entirely too amused. "You're get your turn, I got all afternoon."

Flint smacked the door open and barreled in, too angry to do more that prepare to beat the smugness out of BeachHead for good. "God dammit! That's enough! I'm going to kick... uhh... what's going on?"

CoverGirl struggled to heft the .50 cal M2 machine gun in her arms. "What? Beach promised he'd show us how to handle the big machine gun."

BeachHead snorted from where he was seated on a crate off to the side. "Nooo, Barbiedoll. Get it right. I'm out here to show you two that you are totally incapable of carrying and firing that M2 Browning. There's a reason only Roadblock carries one of those things. Neither one of you is big enough to handle it. Tell them Flint."

Flint felt his eye twitch. He turned and saw LadyJaye standing over to the far side out of the way. She put her hands on her hips to glare at both men. "There's nothing that women can't do that men can! Just because we don't have a penis is no reason we can't fire off big weapons! Unless you're going to tell me you have to use your dick to pull the trigger."

Flint's eye twitched again. "You're teaching them to use a Browning?"

Beach rolled his eyes. "No, I'm teaching them they can't use a Browning.. at least, not as a carry weapon." He nodded at Jaye. "And don't go puttin' no words in my mouth neither. I never said it was cause you're women.. it's cause you're too lightweight. Ain't like Breaker nor Alpine nor Ripcord could carry a M2 neither. They all got balls but they're too lightweight to be standin' up to the kick of a Browning." He looked over to Flint. "Tell 'em Flint. Hell, you couldn't carry one either."

Flint bristled. "Well... I could! It's just..."

Beach's head twisted slightly as he looked at the Warrant officer. "What? What'd you come burstin' in here for if'n it wasn't to tell them they ain't able to do this?"

Flint's eye gave a last twitch. He was doomed. "Uhh..."

0 0 0 0

Duke stormed along the corridor to the messhall. "Roadblock! Are you in here!"

Roadblock stepped to the front of the kitchen. "Yes Top? There some issue?"

"Issue? ISSUE?" Duke stopped and took a couple of deep breaths. "Did you or did you not give three cases of bread dough to BeachHead's greenshirts and tell them to fire it out of cannons?"

Roadblock froze. "Well... uhh..." He reached up run a hand over his scalp. "It was biscuit dough actually..."

Duke threw his hands up. "Oh OH! That makes it all okay then! Biscuit dough.. not bread dough! Those damned greenies shot that stuff out of TWO of the upper cannons.. both of which are down for the foreseeable future while BeachHead cleans them out of all the little bits of dough that are jammed through all the functioning pieces! Then to top it off.. they used an 'old car' behind the motorpool for a target!"

Roadblock thought that over. "Well.. that doesn't sound so bad.. if it was an old car.."

Duke stepped up closer. "It was CoverGirl's GTO."

Roadblock managed to actually go paler. "Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh'. So YOU can go upstairs and help the greenies that aren't in the infirmary clean the stupid car up.. and THEN you'll be on punishment duty for the next month! And just so you know, CoverGirl is going to stand right there and yell at all of you the entire time until her car is cleaned to her satisfaction."

"Yes sir." Roadblock sighed but managed to catch the eye of his head cook and give him a warning look. "I'll head right up.. just give me a couple minutes to tell my cook here a few things..."

0 0 0 0

So this was all the little scenes that didn't fit into any stories but I felt would be fun to write out anyway. Hope you enjoyed and if any more silly scenes pop up, I'll add a new chapter.


	2. Chapter 2: Greenshirts

And it's more crazy little scenes that don't fit into any other fics. These are just fun scenes I felt like writing up to get them out of my head. There's more stuck up in the brain, but those will just have to wait. A huge thank you goes out (AGAIN!) to Karama9 who pre-read most of this to reassure me that it was okay. I don't think half of my stories would ever get written, much less posted if it were not for her. So go thank her by checking out any of her stories that you haven't already read. She's got good stuff(and I base my StormShadow almost directly off her StormShadow and advice). Enjoy.

I have no ownership or rights to GI Joe, this story is only written in homage to the GI Joe franchise, long live Hama!

* * *

Beachhead continued to walk along the path to the greenshirt barracks and rec room. Talking over his shoulder to Duke, he tried to keep his voice calm. "They been drivin' me right up the dang wall, Top. Ah try to be fair and all, but every time, they pull some stupid stunt. What do you want from me? Let 'em get away with streakin' across the parade grounds in front of the civilian transports? Let 'em paint Ace's favorite jet bright gawd damn pink? What?"

Duke's eyebrows had gone up. "Where did they find enough pink paint to coat an entire jet?"

Beach rolled his eyes. "First, all you gotta do is mix some of the five hundred gallons of white paint we got with some of the hundred gallons of red paint and you get pink paint. It ain't rocket science, even for these pogues. Second, what the fuck does it matter where they got it? They're gettin' into trouble, so I took the tv out of the rec room. Figured they could stew with nothin' to watch for a while."

Taking a deep breath and trying to see things from his frustrated Sergeant major's point of view, Duke replied. "I understand they're a handful. That's why Hawk wanted you with the team, so we'd have someone experienced to keep them in line. But when they bring a complaint to me, I have to go and check to be sure your punishments are being fair and not overly harsh. I can't see how them not having a TV can really affect them that much. They've got plenty to keep them busy."

"That's what I told them. I don't know what they're doin' in the rec room so quiet..." Beach's forehead furrowed up as he listened for the normal rowdy sounds of a dozen young men and women off duty. "They ain't got nothin' to do in there but work out..." He opened the door and Duke peered in around him when he stopped a few steps in.

The entire greenshirt team were quietly seated on their folding chairs, gathered around a small table that normally held their TV. Some were munching on popcorn. Duke looked closer and saw a video tape resting on the table.

Beach showed his lack of patience with his greenshirts as he growled out his query. "What are ya'll doin' in here?"

Mouth twisted to put a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh, Sergeant major. We're watching a tape." He turned back to stare intently at the video tape in it's case.

Duke watched Beach's face as the burly man's eye twitched a few times. "Uhhh..."

Miller's bright voice spoke up from their left. "Hey, this is my favorite part coming up!" Everyone leaned in slightly and Duke stepped backwards.

Beachhead's eye twitched again. He twisted on his heel and left the building with Duke right behind him. "You see what Ah gotta put up with? You SEE?"

Duke swallowed. "Beach, I don't envy you. Maybe you need some time off." He was treated to a sharp glare. "I'm only thinking of how much you deserve some down time..."

Beach grunted at him, still striding towards the Pitt. "And just exactly how much of the dang Pitt would be left by the time I made it back, should I go and leave that bunch of monkeys runnin' loose? That what you want? The whole greenshirt team without no supervision at all?"

Duke turned while walking away to look back at the quiet rec room. "On the other hand... you could relax here at the base... that'd be better... much better."

"Yeah... thought so." Reaching the Pitt storage sheds, Beach swiped his access card and opened up the door.

Duke watched this for a second. "What are you doing?"

"Givin' them back the damn TV. It's too gawd damn creepy for me. At least when they're watchin' a movie, they'll be gawd damn well watchin' a movie." Beach hefted up the stored television set.

Duke nodded in agreement. "I don't blame you. If you need anything... "

"Aspirin? That's about all I found what helps when dealing with this crew." Beach kicked the door shut and paused to make sure the lock engaged before heading back towards the greenshirt buildings.

"You got it. I'll send you a bottle from my personal stash." Duke headed back inside. He was extremely glad he only had to deal with the Joe team proper. If he had to supervise the greenshirts too, he thought that he'd go completely mad.

* * *

Flint's head snapped up as he heard a loud retort. It was following nearly instantly by a distinctive 'pooomph' noise of something exploding. Walking through the garages, he listened carefully. Another rifle shot rang out, followed by another low 'poomph'. The explosions didn't sound sharp enough for any high explosives to be involved and he hesitated in sounding the alarm. When a third shot was followed by the same noise, he left the garages to head towards the noises. At least they seemed to be situated near the explosives ranges. He was fairly certain no one had authorized explosives training today though.

"Ready! Fire!" The shout was followed by an odd noise, then the almost expected rifle shot and low explosion. "Good shot! Load it up... come on, pull it down, watch the trigger!" Various excited voices became more clear as Flint approached.

When he came around the heavy bunker like walls, he stopped short. Tilting his head, he watched the group of greenshirts as they huddled around a wooden construction. It looked a bit like an A-frame with a swinging arm... which as he watched was winched down. As the end of the arm lowered, the far end raised, revealing a heavy looking box. Flint suddenly facepalmed himself. "Geeeeeez... the greenshirts built a trebuchet..." He headed towards it and saw them putting something small into the sling. Wondering briefly what they were using as ammunition, he stopped to watch.

"Okay... back up... CLEAR! Ready? Fire!" It looked like Miller pulling on a trigger rope to release the arm. Flint watched the arm snap free to swing around and fling it's missile up into the air. Flint watched the small cyliner tumbling through the air and suddenly a rifle fired and he saw the cylinder explode in a mist of blue. A small cheer erupted.

Flint felt his eye twitch several times. He stormed up towards the machine. "Alright! That's enough! What are you greenshirts doing out here? Who authorized this? Who told you that you could appropriate explosive ammunition?" He stopped in front of the group who all shuffled their feet a bit, trying to look innocent and failing.

Finally someone gave Miller a nudge. "Warrant officer Flint, we're just... umm... doing some extra target practice. And... we're not using any explosive rounds, sir." He shut up and looked at one of the female greenshirts who made several faces at him trying to convey some message. "Annnd... LowLight said we needed extraaaa..." He blinked once as her facial display became more animated. "Uhhh... extra practice to challenge us."

Flint pointedly looked over the contraption. "And you felt that building a trebuchet and pitching explosives into the air to shoot them would comply with the suggestion to 'take more target practice'?"

Miller thought it over. "Yes sir. But it's still not explosives, sir."

Flint walked forward. "Then what are you... are those paint cans?"

Miller nodded. "Spray paint, sir. But don't worry!" He rushed to explain. "These were defective. So we're not wasting anything that's usable. We're uhh... disposing of defective items and getting target practice too." He tried to end with a firm tone.

Flint stared at him a moment. "And you're putting shrapnel all over the range."

Miller responded. "On the bomb range... it's already loaded with shrapnel, sir..."

Flint tried again. "And it's going to have toxic paint all over..."

The greenshirt leader interrupted him with great daring. "It's not any more toxic that most of the explosives that are used on the range normally." He waved at the machine. "It lets us shoot at moving targets in a safe manner."

Flint stared at him in a disapproving manner. "Look. Don't think I'm fooled by any of your pitiful excuses here." Miller ducked his head. "But..." The greenshirt glanced up hopefully as Flint continued. "But... technically you're under Beachhead's command. You aren't using any prohibited materials and you are performing target practice on the range. Soooo..." He watched the face brighten slightly. "I guess there's nothing I can really say against it."

Miller broke into a grin and the rest of the greenshirts shuffled about some, chattering happily that they'd be able to continue their illicit activities. "Thank you, sir!"

Flint turned to walk away, waving one hand over his shoulder in dismissal. "Carry on with your improvised skeet shooting, troops." He heard the excited talk going on as he left the area and smiled evilly to himself. He couldn't wait to find Beachhead and yell at him over his greenshirts and their antics. He had a completely legitimate reason to practically browbeat the Sergeant major over something his precious greenshirts were doing. It wasn't that he felt Beachhead didn't do a superb job training them or keeping them as in line as possible. But he was always so damned smug and superior about it.

Flint stepped into the lift to take himself down to the offices level to locate the surly Ranger. Dipping a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a set of earplugs to insert into his ears. "Oh yes... will need these." He took a deep satisfied breath in. This would be worth having to listen to Beach's long monologue on the lack of discipline that Flint enforced on the regular Joes.

Ten minutes later, Duke's head came up as loud angry bellowing came from down the hallway. Just seconds later he saw Beachhead go running by his office door headed for the lifts while cursing loudly. Stepping out to the hall, he saw Flint coming from Beach's office, walking along casually and looking entirely too satisfied to be innocent. When he saw him tugging ear plugs out of his ears, he frowned. "Okay... do I want to know what you did to get Beach that riled up?"

Flint smiled. "Me? Oh I didn't do anything... his greenshirts on the other hand..."

Duke held up a hand. "No. I don't want to know. You handle it."

Flint stopped smiling. "But... when... he's going to..."

"Oh I know... he's going to rant about whatever they did for a good hour... after he's done yelling at them and coming up with the punishment detail from hell. But he can just rant at you about it. I get enough headaches from him. Since you're obviously in such a good mood over this, you can be the one to deal with the fallout too." He waved a hand to silence Flint's weak protest. "Besides, you already have earplugs. And yes, that's an order." He shut the door to his office firmly.

Flint glowered and slunk back to his own office. "Yes sir..." It really wasn't fair that he didn't get to enjoy his victory. Not fair at all.

* * *

Duke had decided to talk a walk around the grounds before dinner. He really should have thought that through beforehand, as he'd have been certain to realize it was a poor decision. Gazing at the loudly whooping crowd of greenshirts, he rubbed his forehead slightly. He did see Clutch and Shipwreck in the mix so at least this time wasn't entirely the greenshirts.

Even as he headed towards the group, he saw half a dozen greenshirts just reaching the top of the long low hill. They were carefully rolling two giant tires that looked as if they'd been pulled off one of the heavy industrial cranes. Duke shook his head as he continued towards the oblivious group, wondering what exactly a group of bored troops would be doing with the huge tires. Probably betting on which tire reached the bottom of the half-mile slope first, he mused.

"Okay! Williams, Mouth, you guys ready!" Clutch was gleefully shifting one of the tires slightly so it was lined up exactly as he wanted, pointing down the slope. Shipwreck was directing the placement of the second tire. Duke noticed the two mentioned greenshirts climbing _inside_ the tires just a few beats too late. Clutch yelled a quick countdown and the group gave a massive shove to start both tires rolling down the hill, the riders inside bracing themselves firmly to keep from flying out.

"Oh for goodness sakes!" Duke trotted over to the edge of the hill to push through the small crowd. Watching the tires flying at an ever-increasing speed down the slope, he winced as one hit a small stump and bounced into the air. "What are you doing!" His hands went into the air as the bouncing tire veered directly for the guardhouse next to the auxiliary supply gate. "No! NOOO!" His shouts had no effect and the massive tire smashed into the small structure, sending one whole wall flying off to the left to impact the fence itself, as the tire embedded into the remains of the building. There was silence for a full three seconds before the encroachment alarms went off. Loud blaring sirens instantly began to sound and a flurry of rushing armed personnel began to appear.

"Uh-oh." Clutch stood watching the mayhem. "Yeah, I think this is a great time to make ourselves absent..." He turned to run away, only to come face-to-face with Duke unexpectedly. "Uuhhhh... I mean... make ourselves useful in helping straighten out this... this terrible... errrr... mess that..." He paused and then turned a stern face onto the crowd of greenshirts. "... that you greenshirts have caused! For.. for SHAME! Appropriating equipment without...without authorization... and misusing it." He turned to Duke again. "I was just about to report them!"

Shipwreck spoke up angrily. "Hey! You were the one that took the tires off the machine for us! And you suggested racing them! I just was going to use the big truck tires!" He suddenly shut up and looked at Duke. "I mean... I was going to _discourage_ them from using the big truck tires! Yeah..."

Duke could feel the vein in his temple beginning to throb. He watched the second tire as it rolled to a harmless stop and fell over at the bottom of the hill. After a moment, he saw a small figure climb out and immediately fall over. Whichever greenshirt it was, they were managing to stagger upright only for a second before wobbling sideways and collapsing again. Even as the throbbing spread from just his temple to throughout his entire head, he saw the trooper stay down and begin heaving. Gritting his teeth, he turned a glare on the entire group.

"Okay, I can see Clutch and Shipwreck talking a bunch of you greenshirts into something this stupid. I can see Clutch and Shipwreck thinking this is a great idea. I can even see you greenshirts thinking this would be a fun way to pass your afternoon..." Duke paused, his gaze taking in the security squad that had finally realized there wasn't an invasive force at the fenceline and were pulling the troopers from the half-collapsed guardhouse. "What I cannot..._can not_... fathom..." His eyes went back to the chastised looking crowd. "... is why you manage to do these these antics invariably on your Sergeant major's rare afternoon off. Your very-easily-annoyed Sergeant major. Your occasionally-murderous Sergeant major."

Duke would admit down deep inside that he really enjoyed the sudden looks of fear that ran across the entire group. Clutch was the first to recover. "But Duke... we didn't do anything against Beach! And... and he's off-duty!"

"WHUT THE FUCKIN' HELL IS GOIN' ON!"

Duke felt the smile cross his face. Beachhead was nothing if not predictable. A perimeter alarm going off would bring the Ranger from wherever he was, on duty or not. And upon seeing the chaos, he'd very quickly deduce exactly who was responsible.

"YOU GREENSHIRTS GET YER ASSES DOWN HERE!"

The entire group jumped guiltily and turned en mass to look down at the furious Sergeant major standing down near the destroyed structure and overturned tires. Almost as one, they all turned pleading looks on Duke.

"Oh no." Duke pointed down the hill. "You had your fun. Now... go clean up your mess." He watched the greenshirts begin shuffling slowly down the hill, obviously hoping to delay reaching their angry instructor. Duke cleared his throat as Shipwreck and Clutch were edging away. "And you two Joes..."

"Awww come on Top." Shipwreck protested. "It's not like we aimed to destroy anything! I mean... it was greenshirts riding in the tires!"

Clutch agreed readily. "Yeah, yeah... and if the greenies weren't so bored, we wouldn't have gotten involved and told them this was a good idea!" Duke raised a single eyebrow and Clutch hastened to clarify. "I mean, told them it was a good idea to not do... all this, you know... cause trouble."

Duke nodded. "I'm sure. Since to two of you obviously were taking it upon yourselves to try to keep the greenshirt brigade out of trouble with your helpful advice..." He watched the two Joes nodding. "... you won't mind joining them in the punishment details. That was you can make certain they stay out of trouble while serving the punishment and serve as a wonderfully good example to them at the same time." He pointed down the hill. "And you can both start out with the clean up."

"Duke, some times you're no fun at all." Shipwreck stuffed his hands in his pockets and began slouching his way down to the mayhem.

"So I'm told on a regular basis." Duke rubbed his forehead watching the milling figures. "How do they manage this? I need to buy stock in Bayer." He started walking back towards the building he'd originally come out of to head back to the offices. "I'd become an alcoholic... but dealing with this sort of thing with a hangover would finish me off completely."

* * *

End Story

So that's more of what the greenshirts get up to when they are bored and Beachhead hasn't got them digging ditches or mudpits. Poor Duke. I almost feel sorry for him occasionally.

Hopefully I'll have more to post soon on some of the unfinished fics. Thank you all for reading and especially thank you to those who review.


	3. Chapter 3: Taser Training

This is yet another silly bit of a story where unfortunate things happen. With all the misfortune Beachhead suffers when greenshirts are around, you'd think he'd hate the whole batch of them.

Thanks to TinySprite for beta-reading it.

* * *

Flint's interest was caught by another greenshirt hurrying towards the lifts. He tipped his head and looked around the corner as two more scurried by. They didn't seem to be trying to hide so he supposed they weren't actually up to any prohibited pranks, but when greenshirts got lively, it usually meant something was up.

"Hey Duke..." Flint turned. The two team leaders were going over intelligence reports trying to make some sense of Cobra's latest interest in electronic fruit sugar testing devices. "Any idea what the greenshirts are supposed to be doing this afternoon?"

Duke barely glanced up. "Yeah, taser training demo." He flipped over a set of papers. "Whyyyy did Destro buy four thousand pastry bags? That's got to be some sort of mix-up. No one needs four thousand pastry bags."

Flint watched another greenshirt rush by along with Ace. "Cake stores would." He blinked. "What kind of taser demo? And who is running it if we're both down here?"

Leaning his chin on one hand, Duke waved a hand around. "Destro doesn't run a cake store, don't be ridiculous. I think Cobra orders weird stuff just to make me crazy."

"Maybe. So who's running the demo?" Flint tried again to distract Duke. "I mean, we're both down here in the offices, soooo..."

"Hmm?" Finally taking notice of Flint's concern, Duke frowned. "Oh... Law and Beachhead are supervising and such. I'm sure they've got it under control. Law has to certify anyone who will be carrying the new tasers."

Flint nodded, losing interest. "Ahh, yes. So a boring demo about how to use a taser."

Sighing at another report, Duke grumbled under his breath. "Well that and they'll each get shot with it." He growled softly. "Six tons of clothes pins? Now I know they're just fucking with me." He looked up at Flint. "What? I know I know, they have to be feeding us misinformation... who would need that many clothes pins?"

Flint shut his mouth. "Wait, go back... shoot them with a taser?"

Duke nodded. "Sure. If you're going to use one, standard training is to get shot to experience it yourself, and of course, Law will be supervising them in using it. Sort of a two birds – one stone thing for us. They get to shoot each other with..." He suddenly frowned. "With a military grade taser... maybe we should be up there."

Flint hummed softly. "Law is a perfectly competent MP and can keep everything under control. He's one of the only Joes that all of us pretty much pay attention to." He paused. "Mainly because Order will bite you in the ass if you diss his master... but hey..."

"Beach is gonna get shot by a taser."

"We should definitely go supervise. Right now."

"Yes. Yes we should." Duke hurried out, followed quickly by Flint. "Hold that lift!"

* * *

Law kept a somber mien about him despite the madhouse atmosphere with several greenshirts and a handful of Joes milling about. "All right.. settle down." The group was gathered up on a neat section of grass outside.

Mouth raised his hand up, fairly bouncing with excitement. "Law... do we get to shoot each other now?" Most of the faces were as eager as his.

Law sighed. "After I give you instructions, yes, each of you will get to shoot one of the others in order to... to... QUIET DOWN!" His bellow wasn't quite as intimidating as Beachhead's, but it settled the greenshirts. "If you don't listen up, there won't be ANY shooting of ANYone. Got it? Geez, what a load of mokes."

The crowd quieted quickly. Williams spoke up in the quiet. "Isn't it dangerous to be shooting each other with a taser? I mean, it's like.. a million volts of electricity."

Watching the other greenshirts glare at Williams, Law forestalled a mob scene by reassuring the greenshirt. "No, it's not a million volts. It's only fifty thousand volts but it's the amps that can hurt you, and that's really small, only about 3 milliamps. So see? Very safe. I've been shot myself and it's painful but I survived." He watched Williams nod hesitantly. "Okay, so we'll draw lots for who shoots who, no picking."

Mouth's hand shot up again. "Law? Who gets to shoot Sergeant major?" He caught the glare being leveled at him from the Ranger and modified his query. "I... I mean, who _has_ to shoot Sergeant major?" The glare didn't lessen at all and Mouth edged slightly sideways behind Teryris. She jabbed him with an elbow. "What?"

Law glanced over at Beach who gave a slight lift of his shoulders, allowing the MP to run the class as he saw fit. "Beach's name goes into the draw, just like everyone else." There was a pleased murmur at that. Law stepped back a little to speak quietly to Beachhead. "You sure you don't want me to just shoot you myself?"

Beach shrugged. "I don't guess it matters much. Ain't the first time I got hit by a taser. Things hurt but it ain't gonna kill me." He turned a jaded eye on the MP. "You'll just make certain whoever hits me don't shoot me in the damned face. I'll be pissed if I get shot in the face, understand?"

Law carefully didn't smile. "No, of course I wouldn't let that happen."

Beach grunted. "Good. Cause... "

"I won't let them shoot you in the face. Okay?" Law's annoyance finally showed slightly and Order's ears perked up slightly.

Beach looked down at the attentive shepherd. "Long as that's clear."

"Well, it's clear. If you want to sit out, you can do that. Then you won't be carrying a nice new shiny taser." Law eyed the two new arrivals. "Hasn't Duke already been through taser training?"

Beach twisted to look and then shrugged. "Yeah. I checked. Duke's cleared." He suddenly looked hopeful. "Flint ain't. We gonna get to shoot Flint?"

Flint and Duke had drawn close enough for the warrant officer to overhear. Flint made a face as he answered for himself. "No, no one is going to get to shoot Flint. Flint will do without a taser for now."

Duke smirked. "Are you sure? I mean, our intrepid drill instructor would possibly be willing to help you out on that whole 'getting shot with a taser' thing." He watched Beachhead grin under the mask. "Might have to ask him real nice to get him to agree to do that..."

Flint held up a hand. "No thanks. If I let Beach shoot me, he'd wire the thing up to a truck battery."

Law cleared his throat. "Well, if we're settled that Flint isn't joining in on the demo..." Flint shook his head firmly. "... then we need to get started." He took the bin of names from Private Williams. "First up is Miller and he's going to be shot by..." The MP read the slip he pulled. "Corporal Jackson." He motioned the two greenshirts to step up.

Miller moved up nervously while Jackson looked rather eager. After some instruction, Jackson took the taser with a grin. Law motioned two of the beefier greenshirts to step up. "Take Miller's arms so you can lay him down gently when he gets shot. No need to be letting guys knock their heads into the grass. He'll go stiff, you lay him down and when he relaxes, it's all over. No big deal." He slipped on nitrile gloves and caught Miller's nervous gaze. "You agree to allow yourself to be shot with a taser in training?"

Miller gulped but nodded. "Yes MP Law. I'm ready." He visibly braced himself.

Law sighed. "Put your arms to the side, don't want the barbs embedding in your arm. That'd hurt." He nodded at Jackson. "Fire at center of mass, upper torso should be your target, just like we discussed."

Jackson aimed carefully. "Taser! Taser!" then fired. The little pop and buzz noise made everyone wince slightly, no matter how much they tried to hide it. Miller gave a strangled yelp and stiffened up onto his toes, grimacing in pain. There was general laughter at his pained expression then he was lowered down. "Is he okay?"

Law nodded, stepping over to give the corporal a pat to his chest as he finally relaxed. "Stay down." He tugged the tiny barbs out of his pectoral muscle and held them up. "See? Nothing to it. You okay?"

Miller nodded shakily. He sat up and blinked. "Ow. That really hurts." He rubbed the spot on his chest and looked down. "There's barely holes in my teeshirt."

Law smiled, watching the quick recovery. "Nope, the barbs aren't spears. There might be a tiny spot of blood where I took them out." He rolled the wires up carefully. "Remember the barbs could be a biohazard, so dispose of them properly if possible. And everyone look at Miller." Everyone obediently watched Miller getting to his feet. "He's nearly fully recovered, so remember that a taser is not going to incapacitate a enemy for long. If the barbs are still embedded, you can give more shocks, but they will recover, so take advantage of the time they are down quickly."

Miller gave a slight cough. "I might feel able to do whatever, but I don't think I'd want to risk another shot of that thing. Whew... it hurts!"

"Of course it hurts." Law pulled another slip out of the box. "It wouldn't be effective if it tickled, now would it." He read the name and quickly hid a smile. "Well, for those awaiting it, the time is now. Sergeant major, you're up." Beach's face twisted slightly. "Let's see who the shooter will be." His hand dipped back in. "Corporal Daniels. You're it."

The soft-spoke greenshirt managed to look eager and nervous as he came forward to accept his taser. "Thank you." He eyed the burly Ranger who glared at him. "Is it okay? I mean, I don't want to get into trouble for doing a training exercise..."

Beach snorted and unzipped his tactical vest. "Yes, it's fine. It's training, you do what Law tells you and don't..." He pointed suddenly. "Don't dare shoot me in the danged face. You do that, I will break both yer legs."

Flint laughed slightly. "Beach, that's hardly fair. He's supposed to shoot you."

Beach glowered at the other man. "He ain't supposed to shoot no one in the face. I'm just sayin'... don't do it." He tossed the heavy protective vest to Williams then flexed his arms back. His spine cracked and he shrugged twice. "Alright then, shoot me with a danged taser."

Flint nudged Duke with an elbow. "Ten bucks says he takes a poke at Daniels when he gets up."

Duke frowned slightly. "Beach is more professional than that. Unless of course, Daniels shoots him in the face. No bet."

Daniels spoke up. "I don't want to shoot him in the face!" He turned to look at Law. "What if it shoots high? I don't want to even accidentally shoot him in the face! I like my legs!"

Law groaned slightly. "It won't shoot high, it rarely ever will shoot high. The barbs are dragging wires, so they usually drop slightly low, like I explained in training."

Flint smiled. "But there could be that teeeeeny chance that it shoots high, right Law? I mean, even a one-in-a-million chance is still a chance, right?"

Duke nodded. "Even super rare, still possible. Beach wouldn't break his legs if it's truly an accident."

"Well, maybe not..." Flint looked thoughtful. "But what if it's not really an accident? What if he did it on purpose and then just said it was an accident?"

Law cleared his throat. "If the peanut gallery is done with the commentary?" Both men looked abashed. "Good then. Sergeant major, you agree to allow yourself to be shot with a taser in training?"

"Yeah yeah.." Beach moved his arms to the side and the entire crowd leaned forward slightly in anticipation. They might respect him but the opportunity to watch him accept a painful shock was too much for any greenshirt to pass up. The mood might have been called 'gleeful' if a certain Ranger hadn't been within hearing. "Shoot me... don't aim high though."

Daniels' voice was slightly shaky as he aimed. "Taser! Taser!"

Just as he squeezed the shot off, he closed his eyes and Law opened his mouth to shout. The muzzle of the taser dipped slightly.

There was the pop! of the taser firing, the expected sizzle of electric discharge. The high pitched scream was entirely unanticipated however. Even Flint stepped back slightly as Beach fell back, stiff and arching in obvious pain. The two attendants managed to catch him and ease him to the ground despite the shock of his outcry.

Flint and Duke both looked at Daniels who had opened his eyes and was staring in horror. "I didn't aim for his face! I didn't aim for his face! I didn't! He can't break my legs!"

Law rushed forward. "Beach, you all right?"

The Ranger's arched back suddenly relaxed. "FUUUCK YOU!" Beachhead rolled slightly to his side, curling up and howling again in pain. "YOU SHOT ME IN THE GAWD DAMN NUTS!" There was another howl of pain and every male in the group cringed in unison. "Ah will MURDER you, you fucking pogue! Someone drag him over where Ah can reach him!"

Flint stepped slightly aside as Daniels burst into a flat run, racing away as fast as possible. "Oh... geez... even I wouldn't want _that_ to happen... even to Beach. Well... maybe..."

Duke had turned a delicate shade of green. "How bad is it?" Despite his reluctance to approach, he decided if Law was right there, he couldn't very well chicken out himself. He leaned over the writhing form. "Beach, be still... it's not like he hit anything...uhh.."

Law glanced up at him. "Oh yeah. He did. Square on. Someone call Lifeline, I don't think I should... uhh.. remove anything..."

"Fuckin' pogue!" Beach cursed a moment. "Sonnabitch... he shot me in the damn nuts... someone kill that motherfucker! Ah ain't kiddin', someone is gonna die.. and get that thing outa me!"

Law held up a hand. "We can't. It's barbed, you really don't want me to just... umm... you know, yank it out.." There was a snicker from somewhere in the crowd but no one owned up to it as Law glared around. "Anyone who thinks it's funny can be next." Everyone sombered. "I thought so. Did anyone listen to me and call for a medic?"

"Yep, he's trotting up now." Flint crossed his arms as their resident pacifist approached. "You have an irate patient who just screamed like a little girl."

"Fuuuuck you!" There was another groan of pain.

Lifeline looked remarkably unconcerned. "Taser training. Happens every time. Those barbs look dangerous but honestly guys, you just need to pluck them out." He gave a condescending smile. "People are just squeamish about removing the things."

Duke suppressed the grin that threatened to break out as he spoke to Lifeline. "Beachhead got shot in his junk. Pretty sure you're the one for this job."

"He got shot in his what?" Lifeline's eyebrows disappeared under the edge of his hair. "Beach, what the heck? You got shot where?"

Beach hissed through clenched teeth. "In my junk. You know, in my nutsack, you useless pogue! My gawd damned testicle! My BALLS! You understand where now?"

Law shrugged helplessly. "Well, at least you didn't get shot in the face." Beach reached upwards towards him but couldn't quite get his fingers on the MP. "Don't be moving around, wouldn't want it to hurt more."

Lifeline was already examining his patient. "Stop moving. Let me see, it can't be actually embedded... oh." He frowned. "Well. How about that. I've never actually seen this happen before with a taser." Sighing heavily, he looked at Beach. "Gonna take you downstairs to fix you."

"Fix me? Use a different term, okay? I ain't a stray spaniel to be 'fixed'." Despite the evident pain, Beach insisted on getting to his feet. "Sonnabitch..." He hobbled a couple steps, hissing in pain. "Yeah... this sucks... let's go..." With Lifeline protesting that he should wait for a stretcher, the Ranger limped slowly towards the Pitt entrance. "Ain't no reason to wait... oooooooo... fuckin' bastard..." Beach twisted enough to point at the group. "You guys go find Daniels and bring him to me so I can wring his fool neck!"

Duke watched him leaving. "Ahh, yes. Everyone can disregard that order, thanks. Daniels might be requesting to be reassigned, but Beach won't get to kill him, regardless." He gave a slight wave. "Law, carry on. Maybe a quick word about 'aiming' before the next demo?"

The MP rolled his eyes. "Yes, Top. We'll discuss the importance of aiming with both eyes open before we do any more demos."

* * *

Doc stared. "He got shot with what, in his where?"

Beach groaned as he eased himself up onto a table. "Shut up. Seriously Doc. Ain't like I'm proud of this but damn... just take it out." He whined softly as he lay back. "Oh jeeeeeebus I'm gonna be sick."

Lifeline paused in gathering up some items. "Sick? If you mean that, I'll get you a bucket, don't puke on me again."

"I'll warn you..." A deep breath in, then Beach let it out as a groan. "It hurts a lot."

Doc began pulling cloth aside. "Well, I'm certain it's very painful. I'm rather surprised it managed to embed itself.. oh well, it has gotten a good bite in there, hasn't it?"

Lifeline looked again. "It really did. I don't think it's serious, just skin involvement?"

"Ah hate you both." Beach gripped the bed railing tightly. "OW! Sonnabitch, Doc that HURTS!"

"Well, it is a barbed spike stuck in your left testicle. It's only natural that it hurts." Doc gave a reassuring smile. "Lifeline, get two cc's of local anesthetic to inject. This won't be too hard... I mean difficult to extract."

Beach lifted his face. "Wait, inject? Into my... you know..."

"Your left testicle, yes." Doc gave him a look. "Would you prefer me to extract it without pain relief?"

"I hate you." Beach lay his head back. "Ain't no way this could possibly get more embarrassin' than this."

Lifeline glanced at him before wielding the syringe of numbing solution. "Well, I'm certain that if CoverGirl were to come check to see how you were hurt right now, that would be more embarrassing."

Scowling, Beach snarled. "Thank you. OW! Yes. _That_ would be the most embarrassin' erk, thing to add to this situation. Thank you fer pointin' that out.. OW!"

"Sorry, I know it stings, I'm trying to be gentle here." Lifeline and Doc both looked up as someone entered the treatment area.

"What's going on here? I was assured the taser training would go without any incidents and then I hear that one of my instructors gets injured? This is unacceptable..." General Hawk stopped as he blinked at the sight of his Sergeant major laid out on a treatment gurney. Or more accurately, at the sight of certain parts of his Sergeant major. "I did not need to see this." His eye twitched and his voice sounded a bit strained. "Dare I ask why my two highest ranked medical officers have their hands on my Sergeant major's bits?"

Doc's voice remained level and calm. "He was shot in the left testicle by one of the taser barbs. Once it's extracted, he'll need rest for a day, then he'll be back... uhh... up to snuff."

Hawk's eye twitched a second time. "Very good. Carry on." He spun on one heel and disappeared at the quickest speed to remain dignified.

Beach's forlorn voice sounded in the quiet. "Great. I was wrong. THAT was the most embarrassin' thing to add to this situation."

Lifeline sighed as he bent to continue treating the Ranger. "Well, don't count it done yet, you will have a day of trying to rest with a full ice pack on your privates while the entire Pitt knows why you're doing so."

"Thank you Lifeline. I appreciate your help so very much Lifeline." Beach's hand flexed in a dangerous way. "If you weren't workin' on important parts of me right now, I'd strangle you Lifeline."

Lifeline's lips quirked up ever so slightly. "And that's why I said it now, instead of when I'm not being so imminently useful to you."

Doc chuckled. ""My medic isn't stupid." He looked over at Beach. "Now, just hold still, this will only hurt a lot..."

"I hate you."

* * *

End

Yes, I tortured BeachHead again. I'd apologize to all the guys who are cringing right now, but it'd be insincere. I will apologize for the mention of unmentionable bits of male anatomy. It was needed.

Beach disagrees. That's why he doesn't get a vote. Enjoy. Thank you for reading.


End file.
